


What a Pocky Stick Can Do

by armint



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25352752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armint/pseuds/armint
Summary: A drunken game of pocky brings Armin back to a winter night, one that him and Jean had vowed not to mention.
Relationships: Armin Arlert & Jean Kirstein, Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 7
Kudos: 60





	What a Pocky Stick Can Do

**Author's Note:**

> Been in a bit of a writer's slump. Meh. This Jean is certainly different from the one I write in my chaptered fic "All The We See". Kind of fun to take on a different way to write him! "All That We See" Jean is just a soft boi and this one certainly isn't lol.

“POCKY GAMEEE!” 

Connie yells it so loud Armin’s sure their neighbors will report them the next day. It was a Friday, and while his day had been quiet and full of school and reading, the evening was boisterous and woozy. The first sip of wine had done it to him, him and Mikasa scrunching up their noses in the kitchen at the taste. The living room was full of knuckleheads taking shots and knocking each other's ribs during games of Mario Battle on the N64. The rougher of the three, Jean and Eren, were separated by Connie.

But over the course of the night things changed. The remote controls were left wherever, Eren cursing whenever he tripped over the wires, and Jean still sat on the floor but turned, resting his arms on Armin’s knees as Mikasa complained about her week. But Armin was having a hard time concentrating.

He liked Jean. He liked Jean a lot.

And it was then that Connie yelled, appearing from inside Eren’s room. Above his head he held two pocky boxes, showing them off to the group. 

“‘Pocky game’?” Jean questioned, snickering and turning to face Connie. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s that?”

Connie rolled his eyes in response, bringing his arms down. “It’s a game where two people hold each end of the stick of pocky in their mouth, and they have to start eating it, and the last to stop eating it wins!”

“Why would we do that?”

“Because it’s stupid, fun, and Friday night.”

"...fine, I'm in."

"Jean! You can't be serious." Armin complains, imagining who he could possibly have to do this with if they all agree to it. But he doesn’t have long to imagine, Connie laughing, gleeful.

"Armin! You'll be up against Jean!"

Although he doesn’t want to do it, it’s the alcohol in his system that makes Armin sigh and go, “Fine.” And maybe also the fact that he would get to be so close to Jean.

“Come on, Armin, you gunna beat me?” Jean winks, scooting back as Armin slides onto the ground in front of him. Connie claps happily beside them. Armin briefly wants to die.

“How do I win again?” He doesn’t mean to sound as depressed as he does, but Jean bursts out laughing, leaning back and just barely catching himself with one hand. Connie beams as he hands a pocky stick to Armin, Jean pulling himself together, still grinning as he scoots to where their knees are touching. His knees are more so outside of Armin’s though, and even while sitting Armin’s reminded of just how much taller Jean is than him. And that just does stuff to his stomach.

“Don’t break it.” Jean wiggles his eyebrow as he responds. Connie slaps Armin’s shoulder, laughing.

“That’s the spirit, Armin!” 

Jean takes the pocky stick from Armin’s hands, putting it into his mouth. For a second he holds it there with the two fingers, and Armin remembers a night from months ago, cold enough that it had snowed, when Jean smoked a cigarette and stared at him. They had been in some backyard, off to the side and in between the house and the fence. Armin remembers the feel of the wood under his hands and how his chest had ached with something he didn’t understand. 

“Ready?” Jean asks, teeth shown in the process, breaking Armin from the memory. He nods and leans forward, taking his end of the stick in between his teeth.

“GOOO!”

The stick is at an angle, upwards towards Jean, and Armin watches it as he starts to chew. The pocky is sweet in his mouth, and it distracts him momentarily before he looks up to find Jean watching him. The other’s eyes are intense and glinting, playful -no, something darker. Armin tries to think of the word as he feels his neck go hot, Jean and him getting closer. _ Why did it just occur to me that we're going to kiss? _ Armin wants to pull away, to just let Jean gloat and be labeled innocent, but then he can feel Jean pulling away with he pocky still in his mouth. He's cheating!

Armin furrows his brows, leaning forward as Jean continually goes backwards. He has to shift his legs eventually, stumbling forward and placing a hand on Jean's chest. He can hear Connie scream as their noses bump. And then it happens all too quickly. Their lips touch, the pocky finally splitting in two, and before Armin can pull away Jean grabs his face and inserts a tongue into his mouth. His eyes widen, and he lets out a startled noise as Jean takes the bit of pocky from his mouth and pulls back. Armin sits stunted as Jean chews and grins at him, Connie laughing like a hyena beside them.

"Who won?" Eren asks, glumly. Armin doesn’t even remember him coming into the room

"They both did! They kissed!" Connie continues laughing, clapping his hands on Armin and Jean's back. Armin breaks away from Jean to look over at Connie. "Eren! Our turn!"

"No way! I don't wanna kiss you!"

"Okay, MIKASA -"

"FINE!" 

Connie scoots beside Armin, and Armin moves to press his back against the sofa, watching as Eren sits across from the other. He tries to pay attention, but his mind is back to that winter night. Jean’s cigarette was dead in the snow, and it flattened under his boot as he moved to press his hands against Armin’s coat and kiss him. He tasted like smoke, and Armin remembers coughing and Jean apologizing, and then it not mattering anymore as the kiss deepened. It hadn’t been Armin’s first but it felt like it.

Jean leaned back against the sofa beside Armin, their arms brushing. When Armin looked over at him he was already looking back, a kind of weary, unsure expression on his face. Armin knew he was thinking of the same moment.

It had become unspoken between them; something they promised to keep in that one night, one moment away from it all. But here it was present on Jean’s face, and in Armin’s mind, and when Armin looked away part of him hoped that that wasn’t the end of it.

It's later when Jean presses Armin against the wall and kisses him. Eren and Mikasa had retired to their room for the night, and Connie had passed out asleep on the couch. His snores were loud and covering Armin's frenzied breathing as Jean pulled that yearning, butterflies in his chest, outside of him. The kitchen light is still on, and Armin's back is against the dimly lit wall outside his bedroom, the hallway dark and the living room just lit enough for Armin to see the gray head of Connie sleeping on the arm of the sofa. As Jean pulls another moan from him, Jean's lips and teeth grazing the skin of his jaw, he pats along the door beside him till he grips the handle.

They fell into his bed like a mess. Jean is halfway through tugging off Armin's shirt when Armin grips the other and leads the other on top of him with his lips. Jean pushes up Armin's shirt, running his hand across his chest, the blonde shuddering when he glides over his nipples. It's too much, more than he's felt before, and he melts under Jean, sitting up to help with his shirt, raising his hips to have his pants and boxers shuffled off. Jean hasn't removed a single article of clothing and Armin is just naked and exposed and completely under the whim of the other.

Armin looks up at him, his bedroom framing Jean, the room warm and dimly lit. Jean seems pleased by Armin’s nudity, donning a smirk on his face. “Lube?”

"The drawer -" Armin points, and Jean moves off him to the bedside table. He pulls open the front drawer and easily finds it, still in the little bag of sex positivity and safety that get passed out on campus from time to time. Jean snickers at the sight of it and Armin feels his neck get hot, but Jean says nothing beyond that. Armin figures he probably isn't surprised that he's a virgin.

Jean moves back to between his legs, pushing them lazily open with one hand while the other flicks the cap of lube open. Part of Armin is still embarrassed that his lube and condoms have clearly never been touched beyond being placed in the drawer, but another can't help but feel grateful that Jean at least has experience. He bets it probably won't hurt as much this way. But when Jean slides in the first finger and then the next, he knows just how wrong he was. 

He lays back on the bed, trying to control his breathing, as Jean works to loosen him. His hips writhe when a certain spot is touched, the prostate, Armin knows, and he whimpers. It’s a beacon in the fog, pleasure in the pain. "There, again -" Jean laughs, the sound distant under the blood pumping in Armin's ears. 

"Later, I just need to loosen you up, Armin…"

Armin groans, frustrated. "Are you serious?" Jean snorts, pushing his fingers in deep, curling one to press against Armin's prostate. He shudders. 

Armin isn’t sure when the right time for Jean to enter him is, but he feels like he’s in a pleasurable haze when Jean finally removes his fingers, tossing his pants and boxers onto the ground behind him, and gets into position. When he pushes into him it's slow, the discomfort coming in waves before he stills, in up to the hilt. The two shudder, their hot breaths mixing, and Jean gives him a long kiss as he adjusts. Jean's hands hold him at his thighs, keeping him spread apart. He grips them as he moves his mouth to Armin's ear. "Say my name."

"Jean -" It triggers the other, and Armin gasps as he starts getting fucked, fast. The pain is still there, more present than the pleasure, but Armin feels that doesn't matter. Because the pleasure is starting to bubble up, tingling his fingers and toes and body. He clings tighter onto Jean.

"Who's fucking you?" Jean asks, his voice breathless.

"You are -"

"My name."

Armin gulps, realizing then just how fucking egotistical Jean is. But he can't deny that it's turning him on.

" _ Jean. _ ”

Jean chuckles, throaty and dry, and moves one hand from Armin's thigh to his cock, jacking it off in time with the thrusts. Armin feels like he can't breathe, all of his air turning into moans and gasps and Jean's name, over and over and over. He comes unrattled quicker than he would have liked, spilling over Jean's hand and his own belly as the thrusting becomes more erratic.

"God,  _ Armin _ -" He whimpers when he comes, giving one last thrust in deep before stilling. He pants above Armin, recovering, slowly resting his sweaty forehead on Armin's shoulder. 

_ "No one has to know, right?" _

Armin can already hear Jean saying it, moments past surely the future. Jean will pull out of him, undone and embarrassed, and he'll say it while smiling. Because Armin knows he's scared. He had looked terrified in the cold. Armin takes a deep breath, preparing, coming down from the high, when Jean kisses him. It's soft, gentle, and it stirs up the feelings that are in his chest and belly and toes. 

"Do you wanna go on a date?" Jean asks, suddenly, murmuring against Armin's lips. It's so out of the blue that Armin almost laughs, but instead he just smiles, kissing Jean.

“ _ Yes _ .”


End file.
